


Christmas Fuck

by JacksWild



Series: The Game of Pleasure. [4]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fucking, M/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 09:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4216737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacksWild/pseuds/JacksWild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some Gifts are Better than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Fuck

Once again Harry woke up with a pounding head, and stiff cock, and itchy eyes. This hadn’t been in three week retreat that he had been anticipating, no, rather instead it had been a torturous occasion for him to over indulge in masturbation, wine, and whittling until his fingers bled. The last, of course, would have been fine, if he didn’t subconsciously whittle cocks or cocks on brooms, or bollocks, or any number of ridiculous baubles that didn’t need to be in existence, let alone in his possession. 

He threw his body off his bed, and took note again of how treacherously his stomach rolled, he reached out blindly for his glasses and shoved them rather ingloriously on his face, slowly making his way to the loo. He found the pepper-up and hangover potions on the vanity and downed them both, waving his hand to undress and stepped under the cold water. 

He really was too old for this shit, this cock-up of a retreat, he was almost 30 for god-sake, he needed to deal with his life accordingly. He hit his head against the wall of the shower for good measure and sighed, he just wanted to be fucked. One good hearty fuck, and stiff formal conversation about putting Snape and him back on non-intimate terms and he would be fine. 

He toweled down and snapped his fingers, relishing the warmth in his clean clothing on his skin. Harry muttered to himself about needing things that weren’t any good for him, while putting butter and jam on some toast and eating. He sighed and popped away in a huff. His body appearing in a whirl of snow outside of Hogwarts gates. He said some heating charms and munched on his toast while walking to the heat of the stone walls. He tried to come up with something suave to say, something to do with his body before he just showed up in front of Snapes’ door and knock asking for a fuck. 

Harry groaned, deciding that winging it will probably be safer than planning anything out. 

It’s the hairs on his arms that alert him to just how aroused he is by the thought of asking Snape for a Christmas fuck. He rolled the words around in his head and smiled mischievously, yes a good Christmas fuck. 

His knock went largely unnoticed in the dark expanse of passageway, he knocked once more, and leaned against the opposite wall; he hadn’t really had any other plans for where Snape would be. It was Christmas Eve, he growled at the thought that he would once again be alone on a holiday, and didn’t spare a moments respite that it was more aggravating that Snape wouldn’t be. 

He transfigured some lint into parchment and scrawled his address onto it, warding it so that only Snape could see the words. He added a timer charm on it as well, no need for a notice to be on the man’s door, if he wasn’t to be back for a week. Harry didn’t need or particularly like surprises. With a twist of his heel he was back in his cottage, his eyes falling on his wood and whittling knives, and the bottle of fine scotch. Another drunken night of thinking about the unachievable, great…

***~~~***

Severus groaned into the darkness of his rooms; his head was achy, his body tired, and his stomach empty. It had been a long weekend of drinking far too much scotch and sleeping far too little. Last night had been deplorable in the treatment that Minerva had given him; requiring him to go to the Christmas luncheon for all staff that was still on premises, how useless. He had started the evening with a glass of scotch, at some point he found that he was sipping cranberry vodka, and then ended it with champagne and scotch again for good measure. He lifted his hand in the air, and grunted around the word for hangover potion before it slapped into his hand and he downed it. 

Twenty minutes later he dined to open his eyes again and take in a deep breath. His headache largely in part was gone, and the rest would disappear with the consumption of food. He headed to the loo, taking pleasure in pissing, growling when his cock chose to get stiff at the memories that particular room had now, and called for Goody, his elf to bring him some food. 

Severus was a man of pride in his spells. So when Goody brought him a letter that had been ‘posted to the Master’s door in a manner befitting a commoner’, Severus was appalled that he hadn’t heard his wards being breached the following evening. Upon checking them, he found that not only had Potter stood at his door for almost forty minutes, but he had knocked three different times, paced the passageway, and posted the letter to his door; thus setting off his wards eight different times and not one woke him up. 

He set the letter aside, waiting to eat, rather needing to with the assault the alcohol had had on his system. After divesting himself of that chore, he opened the letter and had to clamp his mouth closed. It was one thing to solicit sex in a darkened passageway in the evening when there was little chance of being caught, but to so flagrantly ask for “A Christmas Fucking as a Present to give, Sir…” Severus was unwilling and unable to understand the lack of couth. 

Though it would be hard to say that his cock wasn’t immediately interested in such an idea. He shifted on the chair, and gasped when the letter popped into lint with a shower of green and red sparks. So Potter had had the decency to put some charms on it, but clearly not enough to warrant total anonymity. 

***~~~***

Harry threw another cock shaped spear of wood towards the pile in the corner. It was atrocious, it had been three days since his ill fated idea to go and ask for a solid Christmas fucking, and not only had he not heard from Snape, but he had run out of scotch and wine. It was a disaster. His dinner at the Weasley’s had been a trial in the largest magnitude as the entire red headed race of lanky humans kept bombarding him with ‘oh what about this bloke,’ or ‘how about her,’ or the best, ‘maybe if you stopped waiting for the one and had a bit of fun,…’ Harry had almost sputtered out his drink all over Ron. 

The worst of it was that to an existent they were all right. He did need to get out, go out and see the world, fuck the world, fuck all the available people in the world that wanted a good fucking. And for the life of him he couldn’t explain that what he really wanted, rather really had a need, a craving, a bloody fucking desire for was Severus Tobias Snape. He couldn’t really explain to a table full of ginger haired adopted family, that not only was he currently having fun, but it was with Snape, in dark passageways, in bathrooms and abandoned rooms. 

He sighed and rubbed the base of his hand against his hardening cock, he’d taken to just walking around the cottage in nothing but a pair of thin flannels. No shirt, no shoes, no need. So he was always readily able to stroke his cock to completion, anywhere the mood struck him. He fancied that now might as well work, as he would have to leave shortly to go to Hogsmeade and purchase some more wine. 

He spelled his hand to bit warm and moist, and pumped his stiffening cock to hard and straight up in the air. It was a pleasure that he always found in masturbation that he didn’t need to teach the other person how to get him to this point, though, he admitted, there hadn’t been any teaching Snape. That man knew how to work his cock, and his arse, and his bollocks… Harry gasped into the quiet of the room, as the wave of pleasure coincided with the tingle of awareness that his wards had been breached. 

He withdrew his hand reluctantly, and propped his cock between the band of his flannel and his torso. He would send the person on their way and he would retire to the bedroom to finish this glorious one on one. 

He swung his door open, and stared in relative shock as he watched Snape lift his hand to knock. It was much to his chagrin that instead of being alarmed he was more just ecstatic that he didn’t have to use his lubed hand. 

“Potter?” Snape muttered, and Harry blushed vibrantly at the implied question. 

“Yes, yes… come in.”

“Oh, I plan too…” 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Harry thought he knew what the other wizard had said, rather he had hoped he had heard correctly, but the wind was rather fierce and he didn’t want to assume.

“I said, Potter, that I plan to come in.” Snape reiterated, and Harry laughed softly. Leave it to Snape to be ambiguous even in his possible come-ons’. 

“Right, well to what do I owe the visit?” He asked. It had been more than three days, he had resigned himself to the fact that the letter that had been left had transfigured back to lint in the instance that Snape hadn’t received it in time. 

“I do believe you asked to bestow upon me, your body for a Christmas Fuck. I thought it would be rather rude of me to not allow you the opportunity to give your gift.” Harry’s cock took that moment to putter out a bit of precome and he squirmed as Snape’s eyes raked his body and took in the dribble of the clear liquid as it dripped below his belt and soaked into his red flannels. 

“Oh dear… was I interrupting something?” 

“No, well… yes actually.” Harry took a breath and brought his pyjamas down, until they pooled at his feet. “You see, I’ve been having this problem…”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I just seem to have been hit with a lust spell, or a possible erection extender and duration spell…”

“Really, and why do you think these things, Potter?”

“Because for the last 10 days, I have been unable to do much more than masturbate to the thought of being fucked into the wall, the mattress, the chair, the counter, the table and so on… by you…” Harry bit the inside of his cheek. He was taking liberties and he was perfectly alright with the hope that Snape wouldn’t mind. “And it doesn’t seem to work… I’ve been unabashedly hard since I got here… it seems that no matter the amount of personal treatment… it wont work…” he could feel his blush creeping down to his sternum. “I have rather deduced that it may take a particular cock from a particular person to consume the lust in my veins.”

Harry all but fell in prostration at the look of visceral lust that was aimed in his direction. “S…Sir…?”

His question wasn’t answered in a diatribe on the prudence of caution in messages, not that he knew that was a possibility. His answer didn’t come in the form of an eloquent speech, emanating from that deep voice that rolled through his bones, something that he had always expected. He didn’t even get an answer in a sarcastic retort, something that he was sure of would be the least he received for his flagrant need. No. 

His response was to be smashed up against the door, lifted off the ground, and crammed between the wood of the door and the hard body of the other wizard. Harry couldn’t help the weak moan that escaped his mouth, rather thought that in any other situation he would have been ashamed, but he couldn’t even draw up the emotions to feel anything but the burning, aching desire to be filled in all regards by this man. 

In a last ditch effort to finally have sex in a bed, he lifted his fingers and snapped them, finding them both now in his large, overstuffed, four poster bed upstairs, he relaxed his death grip on Snape and threw his head back, his moans becoming more and more guttural as the tongue in that deliciously sinister mouth, licked up from his clavicle to his throat and then up to his chin until it dove mercilessly into his mouth. 

He didn’t want to speak, didn’t know how, and with that last thought he accepted that he wouldn’t even know what to say. Harry fought back, trying to take control of the kiss that threatened to overwhelm his already skyrocketing libido. 

“Coming, Snape!” He yelled into Snapes mouth as his spurted white hot liquid between his chest and the black robe that covered the other man. His heart racing, his cheeks flaming, he turned his head and couldn’t bare to look at this man. 

“No… no don’t be upset. You will be coming with my name on your lips on more than one occasion this evening, Potter.” Snape said into his ear, the sound vibrating off his nerves and sending a last shutter through his system.

“Yes?” He answered. Shaking all over when he felt the calloused hand grab his softening cock and smoothly rubbing his own come all over his flesh. The mere thought of his own essence being used as lube, being smeared all over his cock by this man, by his liquid being in Snapes hand, sent him into a semi state of another arousal. He hadn’t even come down after the first orgasm and here he was in the throws of a rising tide he wasn’t sure he could contend with. 

“Clothes…” he said, not waiting for Snape to disrobe, he banished them to another room in the cottage. Smiling when he heard the feral rumble in the throat of the other man. 

“You flagrant slut. You will pay for your disregard.” But Harry couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled up within his chest and burst forth from his mouth. He wanted this, wanted it all, that creamy flesh, with small yellow splotches on the fingers, he wanted the soft belly, the hard legs, the firm thighs, the long feet, the silky hair. He wanted every part of the other man, on him, around him, in him.

“Fuck, me, please…” He asked, before wrapping his hand in Snapes hair and yanking him forward to kiss him senseless again. His mouth bruising with the onslaught of taste and probe and feel. His cock rutting up against the hard inner thigh of Snape, bringing him ever closer to the shore of oblivion. He twisted his body underneath that of the other man, his back in a twirl of muscle and bone, where his top was to the side, his mouth still being single handedly demolished by Snapes, but his arse butting up against the hardened cock of the other man as well. 

“Oh, you want a fucking now do you?” Snape growled into Harry’s mouth, Harry only answer being a whimper in reply.

“So needy for my cock in you? How delicious it is to know what a dirty little slut you are for me.” His body shivered in response to the malicious words. He had never been one to be so wanton, but with Snape it was as if his regards were seen as part of the fore-play, it was a strength that he was able to bring the other man to such high arousal, that he didn’t feel diminutive but on equal footing.

“Yes, Sir… your slut, Sir… please fuck me…” he said, each part of the sentence, accentuated by the bouncing of his arse against the other body.

“Most assuredly, my whore.” And before Harry could wonder, or think, he felt slick and hot and stretched, and then the cock that had been so very much on his mind the last ten days was filling him. There was no slow drive, no adjustment period, there was no whispered words of love and need. It was a primal thrusting of lust, one body pumping with the other, a mating ritual that was more about the abject feeling of want than anything else. 

Harry didn’t lament the lack in time of adjustment. He relished it. He felt the burn the sting and the ache, but each was equally coinciding with the tingle the pleasure and the spark. He screamed with each thrust and moaned with each pull, reveling in the feeling of Snapes cock hitting his prostate on every reentry, and crippling with need on every exit. 

“Fuck, Fuck!” He yelled into the smattering sounds of flesh hitting flesh and grunts and growls mingling in their own sweat induced symphony of heat and sex.

“Snape…!” He bellowed as he came all over the duvet, his come spurting in long thin strips, pooling in such long pulls that it felt as if it was coming straight from his chest, ripping out of him. 

Snape wasn’t long in following, “Potter!” He howled smashing once more into the tight canal of Harry’s arse before coming deeply. Filling the channel with all that he had, before collapsing atop the other man.

***~~~***

Severus woke to the sounds of pots and plates, an empty bed, a naked body and a warm room. He opened his eyes and instantly felt the intensity of the sexual intercourse that he had partaken in with Potter. His cock felt limp and useless between his legs, his thighs felt tight with overuse, his throat parched from the extended use. 

He rolled over and saw the charmed glass of water next to the bed, still cold and refreshing as when Potter had set it there, whenever that had been. And a note to come downstairs if he wanted his clothing back. He chuckled a dark and sinful sound. He wouldn’t tell anyone, no not by a long shot; but this arrangement that he had with Potter was more than he had ever had, and it was delicious and more arousing than anything he could have ever hoped to have.

He had a willing partner; that was rousingly sexy, intellectually on par (though Merlin forbid he admit so), charmingly engaging, and sexual compatible. His smirk was all he wore when he stepped on the last stair, and took in the look of Potter naked, save a frilly apron wrapped around his front, standing in front of the stove and cooking. 

He would have to admit, even if just to himself, that a Christmas Fuck had been the best gift he’d been given in ages, and he was rather in the mood to return the favor.

“Potter…”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments please!! This was so needy, ugh I am just in this mood. There isn't hardly enough FUCKING!! Ehmmm... I apologize. As I was requesting, please comment. Your words are always so thrilling to receive and it makes me want to please you more!! Let mw know of any kinks you may have for our men and I might have a surprise in the next part of the series!!


End file.
